Worth It
by Expert Shinobi
Summary: She doesn't know what it is between them, but it's working. Stark/Rukia


**AN:** My first Bleach fic! I thought I'd start out with a one-shot and I hope anyone who loves this pairing, likes this. :) It's short, but I hope to write something longer in the future.

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It's times like this that make Rukia question her sanity.

Alone, she fidgets in the hotel's service area, eyes flickering over the setup. He's late again and she doesn't know what to choose.

Anxious, her fingers curl in the blonde strands of her wig. It's then she catches her reflection on the selection screens, and for a moment, marvels in the absurdity of it all.

For the 100th time that afternoon she checks her watch and silently wonders if he's really worth it.

Wonders if the soft way he kisses or the feel of his strong arms around her waist is worth this humiliation.

She knows the answer, because she knows him well.

He'll stumble in as usual with sleep in his eyes, hair unkempt and a smirk on his lips. There are no pleasantries, no fluffy-couple mush, just a weary glance over her head and a tug to her wrist.

But she never expects anything more.

He's an Arrancar after all, and a male at that. She smiles to herself thinking, "Even Ichigo and Renji have their moments."

Rukia is no stranger to this waiting game. She uses the moments to assure herself of her feelings, to justify sleeping with the enemy. She should have been posturing at the Soul Society, or forcing a smile with Ichigo and the rest but instead she makes visits to the living world, to stay at Love Hotels for a few hours, to try at a peace and happiness she thinks she deserves.

"It wasn't planned;" she'll say it to anyone if they find out.

"It was a matter of circumstance", and she just went with the flow.

Rukia knows the story, and she tries to convince herself that the lie is true. Tries to believe that when she walked into that coffee shop she didn't recognize the human form, that his sleepy grey eyes didn't shock her into realization, and that the name and sloppily masked reiatsu didn't ring a bell. All she knew was fun, quiet, snarky conversation shared over cookies on afternoons they felt daring enough to go public.

For a few hours they talked like humans, about leisurely things like clouds and cakes and things never got heavy the day he'd asked her about her dreams.

Dreams…

He'd never hurt her.

He'd never _tried _to hurt her. Sometimes he's a little too rough, and sarcasm, a little too biting, but as bad as they said he was, Rukia just couldn't understand. She isn't always fond of his brash behavior in bed, but she understands what kind of strength it takes to restrain himself. She knows the reality of the situation, and what she is to him.

Shinigami.

A drug.

Some pure, unrefined intoxicant.

Something that makes his limbs tingle, his heart race, and every hair on his body stand on end. When they get close, his energy devours her even before he can. Rukia won't tell him she likes the feel, but he knows. He can tell by the way her breath hitches, and purple eyes go hazy with desire.

They waste no time after that. He could hurt her- he could bruise and crush her under the weight of the lust he feels, but for her, he holds back. For her, he makes sure he takes his time. For once in his life, he doesn't half-ass things.

The first time, he was wild and feral with his movements, and not the sleepy man she'd giggled at over coffee. She knew what he was capable of, but in bed, not quite. The first time, it hurt. The first time, she found out why the call him _The Primera_.

But it was fun. The bite marks went away, and telltale soreless between her legs lessened to a dull ache when he smiled and fought the instinct in him to fall face down and sleep for days. With time, it went away, and he learned the meaning of self-control.

In truth, the only moments that causeher heartbreak are when he slinks out of bed in a sleepy hurry, brushing off the thrill of the afterglow just to shower away any traces of her presence. It's in those moments; she realizes how far apart their worlds truly are.

"If I don't…she'll know," he always murmurs tiredly when he sees the weak look in Rukia's eyes. She's not herself when the fire's gone.

There's a part of Rukia that feels jealous whenever _she's_ mentioned, but Llinette isn't his lover, she's his partner in crime. His other half – literally, but it pains her just the same. They have a closeness that's accepted, and one she'll probably never share.

But he's not all bad.

No, because some days he'll let her book the Chappy room, even though the sweetness makes his skin crawl. And those days, he'll make sure he stays awake with her to count the pink stars on the ceiling. They create their own world, then, and when he asks her about dreams, the only thing she can think about is living in that moment forever.

Rukia doesn't think ever wonder whether he wants more than what they share there – she looks in his eyes and hears the tired sigh when they part and she knows. She knows because she feels the same pain.

…Is it worth it?

Rukia closes her eyes and remembers his heartbeat, how steady and proud it sounds when she presses her ear to his chest. The blood rushes to her head, and it's almost as if she can feel it. Warm…so warm…

And then rough.

A prickle of facial hair against her cheek, and Rukia wrinkles her nose.

"Took you long enough," she snips.

He doesn't respond - - just gazes at the screens over her head and then presses the pink button under the Chappy room.

"It's discounted," he says, brushing off her smile, but Rukia knows better.

Is it worth it?

Her small hand slides into Stark's large one and he gives it a comfortable squeeze.

She chuckles to herself.

Of course it is.


End file.
